


A Victorian Affair

by KieranDarkling



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Male Character, Botany, Boys In Love, Broken Promises, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Trans Character, Canonical Character Death, Cute, Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Flowers, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gay, Goths, Herbology, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Murder, Original Character(s), Piercings, Protective Siblings, Protectiveness, Safe Haven, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Tattoos, Taxidermy, Tea, The Author Regrets Nothing, Trans, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Victorian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KieranDarkling/pseuds/KieranDarkling
Summary: When Sky Woodes meets a tall darkly handsome man with smoldering lavender eyes and a long spill of ebony hair, he sets his mind to making that man his.- Or, alternatively, -When Dadsona met Damien, and all the wild misadventures that follow.





	A Victorian Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I keep changing how my Dadsona dresses, and his place of employment, and his general attitude, and I have reasons. Originally I thought I would make him really hardcore because...well the reason seems almost transphobic now that I read it? So I made a choice to make my Dadsona more effeminate, because I thought it would fit Damien's character a bit more to fall for a less intense person. Sorry for all the fiddling around.

"Hey Panda?" I call from the hallway as I saunter in the direction of the living room, the chunky rubber soles of gray patten leather low top doc martens clunking on the faux marble tiled floor with my heavy steps. "Should I go with the ornate silver plugs or-"

Amanda turned from where she stood in the kitchen and when she caught sight of me, giving her father a quick once over, she sighed and popped one shapely hip out, balancing her fist on it. She'd changed out of her usual boyfriend jeans into a pair of high waisted shorts made of heavily distressed pale denim, and a long muscle tee advertising some obscure indie garage band on the front was half tucked into the waist band. Her yellow converse were old and faded, splattered in mud here and there, she wore minimal muted makeup and her long fall of mahogany waves was straightened and pulled off her neck into a ponytail that revealed the undercut she got done over the summer. The enamel pin riddled jacket she is almost never seen without, her mothers old army coat from some salvation thrift store, is nowhere to be found for once. Olive green nail polish is chipped and cracked on her weeks old manicure she has yet to have redone. She looks so much like her mother that its haunting, Alex's Caribbean heritage and dark coloring ringing true through her soft rounded features, but she has my strong jaw line and straight nose, just more feminine. For a moment I get so caught up in sentimentality and fond memories I just stare at my daughters annoyed expression and smile lovingly at the child I had been lucky enough to raise. Somehow, without a memo or any warning, we've managed to match in styles and it makes me chuckle. My daughter has an amazing fashion taste solely because she got it from me and my experience actually living through the nineties.

"Seriously dad?" She groans. "Your legs are too perfect. The neighborhood is not ready. I was not ready. Why do I even try when I'm standing next to you? It's not fair. You're just too hot."

"Amanda, honey," I speak sassily, smirk and shake my head at her, leaning my shoulder against the doorway and crossing my arms over my slightly muscled chest. She was right. The entire world was not ready for the breathtaking wonderment of my glorious bare legs. These calf muscles? Darling bless their collective hearts. "You're absolutely beautiful and don't you ever let anyone, especially me, make you feel any less than the goddess you are."

"Course not Pops," She stated matter-of-factly with a single nod, crossing her arms across a chest that had developed a bit too fully for my sanity as the father of a teenage daughter who had to worry about boys noticing her. "I'm a damn bombshell. But so are you and everyone deserves complements some time."

"I have raised you well, my child." I straightened up and responded in a weirdly serious Obi Wan Kenobi impression, and Amanda cracks up a little."Also, careful with the language."

"Those, by the way." She finally states, pointing out the gauges I held in my left hand, fancy sterling silver tunnels with a metal flower in the center and interesting filgerie framing the edges of each. I nod seriously and place the other pair, simple obsidian stone plugs that shone metallic cobalt blue in the sun, on the table top as I tilt the earring to mind the double flared shape and slipped it into the stretched lobe of my right ear.

"We should head out pretty soon here." I stated in a distracted voice, leaning my head sideways to carefully situate the plug. "You about ready to go?"

"Ugh dad! No!" She scoffs at the very thought, glancing up from where she was texting on her phone. I wonder momentarily if it was one of the Emma's, or perhaps that new boy Noah she definitely had a mondo crush on that I absolutely needed to put the fear of God into sometime soon. "We have to be fashionably late, its the cool thing to do!"

I narrowed my eyes at her, straightening back up to shoot her a look of disgust at the notion. Waltzing over to the mirror that hung over the table in the entryway I inspect my reflection and run my middle finger along the underside of my lower lash line to clean up any possible eyeliner that might have escaped the organized smudged chaos. The dark smokey effect looked nice with my angled cerulean eyes. "We're going early now, just because you said that. Grab that plate and come on you demonic hellion."

Amanda grunted in irritable acceptance and picked up the store bought veggie platter while I slipped my cigarettes, wallet and phone into the pockets of my relatively short black cuffed dress shorts, my thin short sleeve flannel so oversized and long line it covered the shorts almost completely when I stood up and it seemed like I was wearing a dress with little greyscale carnations printed all over, which didn't bother me at all. Suns out guns out, as they say, and in this case said guns are my legs. Also, equality for the sexes and all that Jazz. With one last glance into the den to make sure everything is in its rightful place, I hold the front door open for my lovely daughter and usher her out onto the porch with the wave of my hand, pausing to lock the door behind us as we leave. It was a beautiful afternoon outside in the cul-de-sac. A slight breeze rolled through from off the ocean a thirty minutes walk away, and the sun hung low like a lazy ember burning in the clear blue sky. A bustling of noises could be heard from somewhere behind the Christiansen home, a sprawling colonial style painted in a nautical theme, and I sheepishly realized we weren't as early as I thought we'd be. Apparently people must already be there if it was this loud, even if Joseph had four kids it was in no way possible they could be attributed to this much of a rukus. At least, I hoped as much. We walked as a unit up the drive and I held the white picket gate open for my daughter who curtsied in thanks as I bent over double to bow. She rolled her eyes but laughed all the same as she moved into the backyard with me on her heels. Various young children ran through sprinklers with excited giggles, long rectangular tables of both baked treats and side dishes galore took up the parameter in front of a whitewashed fence with dainty fairy lights wrapped around the planks, and the neighbors milled around having small talk and chuckling fondly at their children's cute antics. The smell of hot dogs wafted through the spring time air. It was idyllic and peaceful, and I caught myself smiling softly at the thought of how much my late wife Alexa would have loved this place.

"Sky!" The sound of my name being called snaps me out of my revere and I look up to see none other than Joseph bounding up to us, ever present smile on his face and arms outstretched welcomingly. When he came to stop in front of us his hands clasped together in front of himself. "I'm so glad the two of you could make it! Oh look, you brought veggies! How thoughtful."

He took the plate from my offering hand and placed it down on a table next to us all while I rubbed at the back of my neck in embarrassment. When it's just Amanda and me, I'm relaxed, I'm confident. But here, around a large group of people? I was suddenly a blundering mess.

"Yeah...I would've made something myself but I had to work this morning." I explained in vague detail. "Shame too, I can whip up some pretty tasty potato salad."

"Oh I didn't even consider you might be working today, what with such a recent move for you and all," Joseph said with an apologetic expression. "What do you do to pay the bills?"

"Uh," I twiddle my thumbs a little, playing with my gray painted nails nervously. Wow, I really needed to take Amanda back to the manicurist next time I get a chance. The bottom of my shirt fluttered in the passing breeze because it's just so long that I'm now excedingly aware and embarrassed by it. "I'm a florist, I own my own flower shop for a living."

Joseph probably already deduced as much, seeing as almost all of my tattoos were on display at the moment. The long winding vines of freshia and lilac, speckled here and there with large daisies and aster racing up my right arm, starting below the elbow and ending on the back of my hand, the matching portraits of chrysanthemum, protea and sedum peeking out around my ankles and disappearing under my shoes, the two roses on my left ring finger instead of a wedding ring, and the very edge of my neck/chest piece peeking out that would undoubtedly be more visible if I unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. The stretched ears, a size 7/16ths gauge filled with floral plugs, and the artistic bouquets printed on my shirt might have also given it away. It wasn't that I was embarrassed by it or anything, quite the opposite actually, floral arranging and gardening was my dream, always had been even when I was a kid that didn't have any idea how the whole thing worked. It was that little voice in the back of my mind, my mothers, to be specific, that always whispered 'what will people think of you when you tell them what you do for a career?', that made me second guess revealing it almost every single time. Alex had absolutely adored the prospect, she saw it as something sweet and gentle and innocent, and got copious flowers whenever she wanted or requested throughout or time together. Amanda shot me a reassuring look when Joseph's smile didn't falter even a centimeter.

"What an wonderful profession that must be! You'll have to tell me all about it some other time! Please, let me introduce you to my family" He glanced over my shoulder and waved someone over. "This is my eldest, Chris."

We've met before, when Amanda and I returned the plate Joseph had brought us cookies on. The boy of perhaps twelve trudged over dressed in navy chino shorts and a simple blue polo, his blonde hair a little too shaggy in the front. His scruffy bangs fall in his eyes and he flicks them from his face with a nod of his head. Eyes downcast and empty, he shakes first my hand and then Amanda's. His grip is limp and lack luster, and he seems depressingly uninterested in everything going on. Poor kid must be having a bad day, I think. "Hi."

He's gone almost immediately after he speaks.

"And this is Christian and Christie, the twins." We have also met before, but the two carbon copy children had appeared from nowhere in a horror film-esque display. I pegged them at around six or seven. Christie was only just taller, with blonde waves pulled away from her face with a pale blue headband sporting a comically large bow, and dead blue eyes. She'd dressed in a sleeveless collared dress that was a sickening shade of pink ones eyes should not be exposed to for long periods of time, lace trimmed bobby socks and little Mary Jane's. Christian wore a matching pink polo and khaki shorts, sparees decorating his feet. His hair was cut in a clean style, he looked like an alter boy. He probably was. Except those creepy eyes. They stared blankly and said absolutely nothing. It was a little freaky, making my skin crawl, and then they were gone as quickly and silently as they had appeared, just like their older brother.

"Oh and of course there's Crish, our youngest." Joseph declared. "Wait-wheres-? Mary must have put him to bed for a nap."

Joseph seemed slightly distressed at being unable to locate his youngest child. Then the woman I had met prior at Jim and Kim's, the dive bar outside of town, who had hit on me for a while before moving on to another sucker and letting me watch The Game in peace with my glass of beer, sashayed over like a model on a runway. Her dark blonde hair was swept a way from her face in a sleek bun and she was wearing a cream colored pencil dress and simple gold jewelry. Joseph gave her a peck on the cheek and she smiled. Whelp, I thought, this is hella awkward.

"This is my lovely wife, Mary. Mary honey, did you put Crish in his crib?" Joseph's smile seemed strained.

"No, I thought he was with you." She blinked at him boredly. "I have no clue where he is. He's probably stuffing dirt in his mouth somewhere. He'll be fine. Toddlers are resilient. This ain't my first time to the rodeo. Its my fifth. I pushed out forth little-"

"What do you mean you don't--?!" Joseph cut both her and himself off, which was good because his voice had been raising, and took a deep breath to compose himself. I found myself mortified at the entire situation. "Anyway, Mary, this is Sky and his daughter Amanda."

Mary smiled at us warmly while Joseph introduced us. I was also starting to worry about the wellbeing of their children and wanted one of them to excuse themselves to go find the baby like any normal parent would. I side eyed Amanda with my bottom lip firmly between my teeth and she also seemed pretty tense, her smile faltering just a tad. She was keeping it up like a champ though and I was proud of her for it. I needed to remind myself to buy her an ice cream after this. Or a coffee. Or I could just take her to Dead Goth and Beyond if she wanted, I suppose.

"Hey there, sailor." She used the same line she had at the bar and I groaned internally, my face heating up at the memory.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. For the first time." I tacked on the last bit to try and make her aware that I didn't want the conversation getting anymore uncomfortable than it already had become. I could feel myself sweating profusely under my collar. What if Joseph knew? What if Mary knew that Joseph knew? What if Joseph knew that Mary knew that I knew? Oh dear was it always this hot outside?

"Charmed. Well I need to go over there now. There's a glass of wine I simply must attend to." With a pat of Joseph's shoulder, she was gone. There was a pause.

"I absolutely LOVE her." Amanda said sarcastically with a slightly nasty undertone to her voice, and I had to stifle an explosion of laughter. I had to remind myself to be a good father. Joseph seemed even more tense and distressed but played it off with a smooth recovery.

"Oh, Sky, by any chance have you met Damien? Let me introduce you." He beckoned over a person I couldn't see. My life was about to change forever and I had no idea. I was a fool.

When I turned to the right to face the newcomer, the man that came into view almost made my heart stop beating. In fact, I was certain it did momentarily because my throat suddenly burned with the urge to cough, but I repressed it violently. The heavens opened their gates and the angels sang biblical praises. I swore I could hear it, and I also swore I could see a single beam of light illumiating the tall drink of water that had just padded over. That last one could have easily been caused by my sunglasses though. Damien was a man words couldn't exactly describe, perhaps because all articulate thought escaped me completely when I laid eyes on him. He was half a head shorter but had broader shoulders and a slimmer waist than myself, and he was dressed in neo-victorian gothic attire, a thin purple linen button up with rolled sleeves held aloft by black garters and a double breasted black waistcoat with slim lapels and silver buttons. A matching violet cape, cloak, thing hung over one shoulder. His hair was one long ebony spill, a waterfall of ink, that hung to his waist and his smoldering eyes were an unusual and unnatural shade of lavender, with smokey shadow and long lashes framing them. His physical build was similar in a sense to Johnny Depp, slender but in a masculine way, and he had an elegant, elongated way about him that was reminiscent of a Tim Burton caricature. I did a double take. No, a triple take. His slacks were a deep midnight plum and pinstriped with the color of his top, but somehow it worked, and he wore nice leather dress shoes on smaller feet than one would suspect. He was striking in the best way possible, a risk taker with enough bravery and attitude in the set of his shoulders and his stance that he pulled it off. He was so fucking cool. I knew I had to get to know this enticing stranger much, much better, I knew it, but was way too shy or timid to really admit it. Anyone who blatantly went against the norm like that was going to be my new best friend, if I ever learned how to speak a coherent sentence again in my life. I needed this man in my life somehow in some way, because he was an adventure worth having, and I consider myself a very adventurous man.

Who am I kidding? I'm so not adventurous in any way, shape or form. But he's so fucking cool. And he was pleasing on the eyes as well, for an added bonus.

"Good eve, friends." Damien declared in a voice that was surprisingly high pitched and sing-songy. My face was physically scalding. 

"Damien, this is our new neighbor."

"Oh I've been hearing so much about you since you moved in." Damien said with a warm smile that could melt ice, clasping his tapered hands before him in a stance similar to Joseph's.

"N-nice to m-meet you," I managed to recover my composure not-so-smoothly. "I'm Sky Woodes, and this is my daughter, Amanda."

"I'm Damien Bloodmarch, at your service." With a sweeping bow he produced a single white lily from somewhere on his person and offered it to Amanda. Fuck he's so fucking smooth. "For the young lady."

Amanda blushed, clearly unready for the gentleman before her as I was, flustered by the display, and responded with a small curtsey of her own. Somehow she was still faring better than I. "Well dont you know how to treat a lady?"

He extended a hand and I shook it loosely, but then Damien dropped into another less grand bow and pressed a kiss to the back of my hand with a smile and a somewhat flirtatious wink. Inside I was screaming like a pterodactyl when the meteors struck earth, like a banshee come alive, like a hundred dying elephants being disemboweled through their eye sockets. It was madness and agony. Amanda winked at me and smirked her knowing smirk. All rational thought suddenly flew out the window. Somewhere in my head Alex was telling me to go for it with a demanding tone and whistling an appreciative catcall from beyond the grave. All sense was lost. I realized I was a very weak man who liked pretty things with dangerous edges, and even prettier men with even sharper more dangerous edges. Fuck.

"If ever you're interested, it would be my absolute pleasure to host you at my manor for a spot of afternoon tea some time, perhaps?" His voice was like flowing honey and just as sweet. I only vaguely realized Joseph had disappeared to locate his missing toddler and left the three of us alone. My knees practically buckled at that twinkle in Damien's mono lidded almond eyes. I am sick man.

"T-that would be really n-nice, t-thank you for the invitation." I managed to choke out between clenched teeth. Lord I needed to get a grip on myself. Now.

"Splendid!" His smile was so genuine and sweet I felt touched. Amanda strolled back over from where she had been getting food for herself and me. She silently handed me a paper plate of deviled eggs, something I refuse to eat unless it was at a barbeque type setting, and her own plate was pilled high with baked goods. Of course, I had taught her well. To help me step back to reality I slammed one into my face hole and chewed methodically.

"Amanda, I think you're a little to old to be making friends with the neighborhood kids, yeah? I mean, they all seem so much younger than you." I tried to make it seem like I wasn't desperately trying to keep her by my side, but my child knew better and I knew that too.

"You need to try and make some friends Popsicle." She grumbled, raising an eyebrow at me with a knowing look.

"Thats...that's totally what I'm doing." I lied 

"Uh huh. Yeah, suuure..." She chuckled. I have created a monster. 

"But...but Manda, what if I don't wanna do the pleasantrieees?" I whined, forgetting about the other people around for a minute while I purposefully embarrassed my child. Amanda sighed and pinched her nose bridge between her thumb and forefinger, balancing her plate on the palm of her other hand.

"Dad..." She sighed sternly. "We've talked about this..."

"But they're all gonna talk about the weatheeer!" I continued to complain with a prepubescent trill, getting that same sick pleasure all parents did from annoying their children.

"Nope. This plate of cookies is my new dad. Have fun. Bye." And with that she threw up a peace sign and marched off towards where Brian's daughter Daisy and some other girl in round glasses were sat in a patch of wild flowers happily chatting away. She left me. Abandoned me in my time of need. With a look of irritation on my face I flashed her back a quick middle finger, as we often did to one another in a good humored and healthy way, and turned back to Damien. Joseph had returned with a gurgling blonde baby boy dressed in a sailboat and captain hat printed onesie bouncing on his hip, whom I could only assume was Crish, and they were chatting away in a friendly demeanor. Oh boy, here we go.

"--Now, remind me exactly, WHY did you have your house painted black?" Joseph asked, a somewhat pained expression on his otherwise handsome face.

"Well there are endless contributions the color makes; a simple few being that the house stays considerably warmer in the winter, the dark color adds an artistic contrast to the other homes in the neighborhood, and it complements the crimson interior perfectly." Damien's eyes have lit up like a kid on Christmas and his lips are upturned at the corners, it's adorable. I've seen the house and have to agree. Its a gorgeous home.

"It's...certainly an...interesting choice."

"Thank you. I'm very proud of my abode."

"Yes but why the gargoy--" Then he seems to spot me and falters in his questioning. "Of course. Hello again Sky. I was just having a conversation with Damien here about his...aesthetic design decisions."

"Well I think your home is really beautiful, Damien. I've always had a thing for both Victorian houses, and Gothic architecture." That wasn't a lie at all. I adored Victorian era buildings, I loved the towering spires and sharp stately dimensions, and Gothic styled Victorians were even more appealing. Is this small talk? I think this is what small talk is. Damien's eyes flash anew with a glimmer of intrigue and dare I say, admiration? I gulp.

"Is that so?" He asked politely, still smiling ever so slightly.

"Yeah, the house I had before this place was a remodeled Victorian. Three stories, tall windows, gorgeous woodwork. I honestly hate that I had to sell it, I bought it with my wife almost twenty years ago when we had only just had a baby. But Amanda is about to go to college so I needed a downsize, what with the soon to be empty nest and all." I explain, removing my hands from their tangle to wave them around animatedly as I speak. Okay, houses. I can talk about houses.

"Wife?" Damien asks sweetly and my heart sinks as I realize I shouldn't have said anything about Alex. I feel the stitches on my heart tugging and its a sharp, deep pain in my ribcage. Joseph's eyes have gone wide and his expression is pained. He'd already made the same mistake before in my cluttered living room when he came to invite us to this gathering, but he can't really do anything to stop Damien now, and I forgive him for it silently. "Where is the lovely Mrs. Woodes this afternoon?"

Joseph looks as if he's suddenly been shot in the groin, and I mirror how he must feel. My heart drops into my stomach with a resounding crash.

"Uh...she's...Amanda's mom isn't with us any more...she passed away about nine years ago." I can hear my own voice growing softer as I speak, eyes downcast. Damien goes a bit paler than he already was and shoots Joseph a frightened and pleading look, who returns a tense glare back.

"I-I apologize Sky, I had no idea..."

"No, of course you didn't. It's alright, really. Like I said, its been nine years now." Wow this is uncomfortable. I chew on my lip and resume whatever my hands are doing to each other, shifting my weight from one foot to another.

"Oh...uh...please, do tell me more about yourself, I'm curious, you're new to the neighborhood, have you been settling in well?"

"Y-yeah, we've gotten most of the furniture put together 'nd set up. It'll still take a while b-but we're off to a good start." My answer seems clipped and wavering to my own ears.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Joseph blindly asks.

"Yeah, its g-great to be in a cul-de-sac with such friendly families around." I take a long sip of the beer Amanda brought me even though I can't stand the taste and pull out my cigarette box, silently asking if there's any objections since I'm standing in front of them. They share a look by neither tells me no so I light up an essential oil stick. It smells like citrus and mint and calms me almost immediately. My greif counselor and my therapist had both told me the personal defuser would be of assistance and neither were wrong.

"Hey!" Joseph cuts in with another extremely smooth recover "Damien, why don't you introduce Sky here to Lucien?"

"Yes, how silly of me not to do so sooner!" Damien seems so relieved to be out of that situation its almost laughable. There's a cute blush coloring his prominent high cheekbones and his smile is strained. He also speaks louder than he needs to, and his hands flutter nervously. Just then an angsty looking teen with a brooding glare saunters up to us, flipping half of his silver white hair out of his face. The other half is buzz cut close to his scalp. There's heavy purple and red eye shadow smudged and blended all over his lids and a stud in his arched eyebrow catches the sunlight and glints just as bright as the two thin steel industrial hoops framing his lower lip. He's dressed in a gray and white striped tank top, shredded black skinny jeans and gray converse low tops, and at least fifty black jelly bracelets race up his bare arms. I have to blink to make sure this kid is for real. I thought emo was dead. Did I miss the revival email?

"Dad." He sighs in an over exaggeratedly bored voice. "Can we leave yet?"

"Lucien! Have I introduced you to Sky yet?" Damien answers his question with a completely unrelated question.

"No?"

But I know who he is after I get a closer look at the big picture. I mean, there aren't many scrawny gangly teens with white hair running around, are there? Not in a smaller town like Maple Bay, at least. I had met the low rent Gerard Way knockoff at Amanda's school a few days ago when he had purposefully sent me on a wild goose chase around the building to find Hugo Vega's classroom. I ended up very late to that important parent teacher conference. He had also been playing hooky and I almost want to rat him out, just to be mean spirited. Damien is somehow slightly less attractive now that I'm aware of who he spawned.

"I remember you." I shoot with an angry glare. The teen--Lucien--looks up at me, eyes traveling up and down as if studying, and its like he suddenly remembers. He scoffs and rolls his very blue eyes.

"Whatever."

"Lucien that is no way to speak to your elders," Damien interjects, narrowly eyeing his sons back with his hands clasped behind his own. He looks stern, chin tilted up, and it's so fucking hot its scary. "Be polite."

"Whatever." Lucien repeats, this time with a bow. "Sir. Also, just for the record, I think your tattoos are pretty cool for an old guy."

I raise my eyebrows at the semi-complement. But its about my ink and I can't just ignore that so I uncross my arms and bury one hand in my pocket, a lazy smile stretching across my face. I pop the cigarette filter between my lips and stretch my right arm out, twisting my hand left and right, and the three men all look down to study the delicate designs cutting thin black lines through my milk white skin. They all look different levels of intrigued by the artwork spanning my limbs, which makes me rather proud.

"The lines are so precise...daisy for innocent true love...aster for first love..." Damien murmers before he looks up at me, straightening his posture. "Did you design these yourself?"

"Oh no." I chuckle heartily, shaking my head. "No, my sleeve was the first tattoo I ever got. I was seventeen and young and stupid. I just got married so my wife and I went and got ink to celebrate. She got this little butterfly on her hip and I got this masterpiece. I was going to college for botany so it seemed appropriate."

"You're a botanist?" Lucien's head snaps up and I can see the awe in his wide eyes, which is odd because he seems so not the type of person to like flowers "Oh my God I love stuff like that! Dad, tell him about the garden!"

"Its an amazing thing to get to do, yeah. I've even been trying to create my own hybrid." I agree, glad we've found something to bond over, I guess. I am,,however, curious as to this garden he's so excited about.

"You married at such a young age?" Damien ponders instead, perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed in the center.

"Oh, yeah..." I mumble, cuffing my neck. "Her parents kind of insisted on it. Very forcefully. Because of our situation."

He nods and doesn't bring it up again, for which I am eternally thankful. Explaining how you got roped into a shotgun wedding at seventeen with a heavily pregnant bride to be and intensely pissed off in-laws isn't the best story to tell at your first barbeque of the neightborhood. I catch a bit of a tattoo peek out from under the sleeve of Joseph's polo and raise an eyebrow in dismay. It looks like the bottom of an anchor. Lucien seems to spot it too because he speaks up.

"You have a tattoo too, Mr. Christiansen?" His voice sounds equal parts confused and interested.

"I wasn't always a youth minister you know. I was young once." He chuckles with a smile, looking at Damien and I as if to say 'ah, kids, right?'.

"Its so cool! You guys wanna see mine?" He seems excited but Damien visibly stiffens.

"What?!"

"My buddy gave me a stick-and-poke last week." I bristle at the information he provides, but Lucien holds up his right arm and pulls some of the rubber bracelets further toward his wrist to reveal his lower forearm. There's a lopsided '666' in black ink branded into his flesh. I krinkle my nose in distaste. Its obviously a poorly done home job, the inks lighter in some spots, and its all kind of at an angle. Poor kid wanted one so bad he couldn't wait. A lot of people make this mistake though, I'd had to pay to cover up Amanda's own stick-and-poke disaster a year ago. Maybe I could offer to help Lucien out, but if looks could kill Damien would have murdered us by now. He's livid.

"Lucien Alexander Bloodmarch!" He half shouts and I nod respectfully at the appropriate use of the full name card. A few other people close by look over to see what the commotion is all about so Damien pauses to compose himself. "We will discuss this later. At home."

"I mean, I think its healing up pretty nice." Oh you sweet summer child how wrong you are, I think with a grimace.

"What's the significance of the tattoo?" Joseph asks with a worried look on his face.

"I just thought it looked cool." The very much in trouble and completely oblivious to it teen states with a single shrug of his right shoulder. I nod respectfully at this as well. All the tattoos I had were placed with an incredible amount of thought and carefullness, not simply because I had also thought they looked cool, but anyone should be able to have them if they really want one. The piece on my chest has more meaning than a tattoo should be able to bare, but that was for me and me alone to contemplate. But Amanda's ankle constellation? That had been sudden and random and very much spur of the moment.

"Well, I believe the only reason you need to have to get a tattoo is because you want one. But be careful, that number carries weight." Damien nods in agreement, glaring daggers at his child.

"Hey, when your dad isn't so upset about it, I know someone who can fix that up for you free of charge, cool?" I ask Lucien, and his eyes light up like wildfire. His head pivots to look at his father, who looks at me with a weird mix of acceptance, respect and distress. "He can even, I dunno, cover it up with something more meaningful? Could turn it into a row of crows, maybe, or skulls."

Damien sees I'm trying to make the idea of covering a supposedly satanic symbol permanently etched into his child's flesh more appealing to said child and relaxes visibly. Even if the tattoo idea doesn't sit well with him, I can see that that number doesn't bode fairly either. Lucien even seems to be considering my offer and nods with a gentle yet somehow still angsty smile.

I raise my eyes to look at Damien, who stares back with interest. His head is tilted just slightly to one side and he seems to study my face. I'm flattered. I raise my circular sunglasses off my face and balance them somewhere between my black quiff and my wide brimmed hat, shooting him a wink. Wait. What? Where did that come from? He blushes and seems to fumble with the appropriate response before he smiles sheepishly with a blush spreading over his cheeks. I'm sure I'm twice as red, but he looks really cute all flustered. He looks really cute in general. He fiddles with his fingers, eyes downcast, and I smile slightly at the realization his fingernails are lacquered black. I'm completely unsurprised by the development. He seems thoroughly flattered at my display, however. Score one for Sky, I guess? I'm proud of myself. I still got it for a thirty five year old. And then Lucien interrupts our silent conversation with a question not even directed at us and we both turn towards the sudden voice.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Christiansen? Can I have a veggie burger?"

×××××

"So dad, did you enjoy the party?" Amanda asks as we walk towards home with the orange and purple light of the setting sun behind us. My arm is thrown haphazardly around her shoulders and she holds onto my forearm affectionately.

I think back on the events of the evening as the sky transforms above us. After we had a short conversation about Damien and his son being vegetarian, which I didn't mind at all and found pretty respectful, I found myself drawn into everything he had to say. The nervousness melts away like wax on a newly lit candle and suddenly I couldn't shut up.

We sat and talked about so many things I'd lost track of them all. We discussed everything from music tastes to careers to our kids to the goth/dark lifestyle. I learned about his affinity for plantlife and botany, mainly flowers, and insects as well. He was interested in my work at the shop and we compared notes for a long while. We swapped tales about taxidermied animals and experimental darkwave artwork. It had been both enlightening and eye opening. Damien was a very well learned man and that was so refreshing. He had well thought educated opinions and random facts I found witty and useful. We talked about the Victorian Era for nearly two straight hours. I was officially on cloud nine. He even smiled fondly at me whenever I laughed. I was definitely up to the challenging enigma that was Damien Bloodmarch.

"Manda." I said with the utmost certainty. "Heed my words. I am going to marry that man and I will let nothing stop me on that quest."

The crisp twilight air was punctuated with my daughters lilting laughter and I sighed happily. This move was one of the best things we could have done.

Little did I know in that moment what the future would hold for us.


End file.
